


In Nothing But Their Own Skin

by luxover



Category: American Idol RPF, David Cook (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxover/pseuds/luxover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t worry,” Neal says, “I’ll be gentle.” And the words are nice enough, Neal knows, but he says it like, <i>What are you, a delicate fucking flower?</i> and knows that Dave gets that, that he hears the tone and not the words. For the prompt: "David Cook's first time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Nothing But Their Own Skin

“Don’t worry,” Neal says, “I’ll be gentle.” And the words are nice enough, Neal knows, but he says it like,  _What are you, a delicate fucking flower?_  and knows that Dave gets that, that he hears the tone and not the words.

“Fuck you,” Dave says, and he kicks out lazily at Neal. They’re both lying on the bed in Dave’s shitty apartment because it’s quieter than Neal’s shitty apartment, with Andy and Sixx and everything, and Neal can tell that Dave’s nervous, real nervous.

“We don’t have to, you know,” Neal says, and he means it, although he doesn’t expect Dave to think he does; Neal’s an asshole sometimes.

“I want to, though,” Dave says, and he doesn’t look at Neal. Neal takes advantage of that, uses the time to look at Dave and at how he hasn’t shaved for a few days and at how the light from the lamp looks on his cheekbones. Dave’s gorgeous, real fucking sexy, although Neal doesn’t know how to say that and so he doesn’t even try.

“Good,” Neal says, although he means,  _Me too._  He leans forward and kisses Dave, props himself up on his elbow so he can press himself chest to chest against him, and Neal loves it, really fucking loves kissing Dave. He remembers back when they first got together, how Dave had never been with a guy before and so he kissed Neal softly and sweetly, as if he was a girl. Neal bit down on his lip;  _Fuck you,_  he said, and then David got it, understood it.

Neal bites down on Dave’s lip again just thinking about it. He slides a hand up Dave’s shirt and leaves it there, resting on Dave’s bare hip, the hair underneath his belly button scratching at Neal’s wrist.

“Yeah?” Neal asks again, and he shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t because Dave already said he was sure, but Neal has to know, has to be positive because this is him and this is Dave and Neal has been working so hard, so fucking hard not to screw this up.

“Yeah,” Dave says, and he smiles. Neal likes that, leans forward to kiss him real quick before pulling back and sitting up to take off his beat-up Docs and his socks, his worn-in denim jacket.

“Oh, baby, take it off,” Dave says, and he’s joking around and it makes Neal laugh.

“Fuck you,” he says, and his shirt gets caught on his chin as he tries to take it off. And then when it is, when Neal’s standing around wearing nothing but jeans, he looks back at David and Dave’s got this look on his face, one arm behind his head. Neal thinks,  _I get to fuck that tonight,_  but what he really means—what he can’t find the words for—is,  _You could have anyone; what are you doing with me?_

He crawls back up the bed towards Dave and kisses him again, gentler than he did before but still hard enough that Dave won’t be able to forget what’s coming. He straddles Dave’s hips and runs his hands up Dave’s sides, his palms moving over Dave’s skin and leaving goose bumps in their wake.

“Come on,” Neal says when he pulls away. “Sit up.”

Dave does, and Neal guides his shirt up and over his head, kissing him again once it’s off, one hand behind Dave’s neck, his fingers in Dave’s hair.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Neal says, and Dave doesn’t blush because Neal says that shit a lot. He runs his fingertips down Dave’s chest and swipes a thumb over one of Dave’s nipples, again and again until it’s hard.

Dave’s fingers are digging hard into Neal’s hips and he says, “God, Neal,” and Neal loves the way his voice sounds, ragged although they’ve barely done anything at all.

“I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, okay?” Neal asks. He doesn’t need to, but he does anyways.

“Yes,  _fuck_ ,” Dave says, and Neal can tell that he’s getting a little bit annoyed at constantly being asked. Maybe that’s why Neal does it, he’s not really sure.

Neal moves back and undoes David’s belt buckle, unbuttons his pants and slides them down his hips just enough so Neal can get at Dave’s cock, half hard already. His wraps his fingers around Dave, just on this side of tight because he knows what Dave likes, even if they haven’t had sex yet, and then he jerks Dave off, once, twice, three times. David’s hips rock gently in time with Neal’s hand.

“Is it good for you?” Neal asks. He knows it’s annoying.

“Shut up,” Dave says, and although he’s not looking at Neal, he’s smiling at the ceiling. 

“What?” Neal says. David looks at him, then.

“Come on, take your pants off too,” he says. “Fair and square and all that.” And Neal can’t really argue with that logic at all, so he pulls back just long enough to shimmy out of his pants and to finish taking Dave’s off, and then it’s just them, naked, in nothing but their own skin.

Neal leans down, takes Dave’s cock into his mouth and presses his tongue flat against the tip. David makes a noise that doesn’t mean anything and threads his fingers tightly through Neal’s hair, his hips bucking as Neal takes more of him into his mouth—slowly, slowly—and uses his hand to cover what his lips can’t. 

He looks up, flicks his eyes up towards Dave’s hip bones and his stomach and his face, and Dave is watching, straining his neck so that he can half sit-up, and Neal likes that, likes being watched. He makes a show out of hollowing out his cheeks and being really sloppy about it, spit everywhere because it’s crude and because he wants to. 

He brackets his hands around Dave’s hips when he pulls off, the black of his fingernails contrasting harshly with the white of David’s skin, and David’s still watching him, still just watching and breathing heavily.

“Can I?” Neal asks, but he’s not doing it to be an asshole this time.

“Yeah,” Dave says. His voice is wrecked already and maybe he doesn’t even realize it, but he spreads his knees wider apart. Neal thinks that nobody else has seen Dave like this—not his family and not his ex-girlfriends, and not any one-night stands—just Neal, and the thought makes Neal—he’s already hard, but that thought—

Neal scrambles across the bed to his end table and roots around in the drawer for some lube. Dave watches him without saying anything the entire time, and Neal thinks that he’s got to be calm, for Dave, and that he’s got to make it good for Dave, because if he fucks it up and Dave leaves, he doesn’t know what he would do. Dave is his partner in crime, and Dave is his drinking buddy and his band mate, his boyfriend and his best friend, and suddenly it’s like Dave’s his everything, only Neal fucking blinked and missed seeing it happen.

He pops the top on the lube and his hands shake. He’s not nervous—he’s not, even though Dave looks at him like he is—so he doesn’t know why they shake, but they do anyways as he coats his fingers.

“One first, okay?” Neal says.

Dave nods, says, “Yeah.”

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, even though one is barely anything at all. He wants Dave to know that not everything has been leading up to this moment, and that if suddenly it’s too much for him, they can stop and go back to shooting the shit at bars and giving hasty blowjobs in the backseat, no problem.

Neal’s never felt like that with anyone before; like it was enough just being with them.

“Okay?” he asks again, and Dave bites his lip as he nods. Neal crooks his finger—just there, just right—and then suddenly Dave’s gasping, his hips bucking up against Neal’s hand. 

Neal adds another finger, his unused hand splayed out against David’s thigh, and he can feel David’s leg quiver as Neal thrusts his fingers in and out, runs his fingertips against David’s spot again and again, until David’s not making sense and Neal can’t wait any longer.

Neal replaces his fingers with his cock—carefully, carefully. He uses more lube and enters slowly, even though Dave feels fucking perfect around him and even though he just wants to let loose. He won’t let himself do it any differently because this isn’t just about him getting off, not like how it was with other people. This is about him, and this is about Dave, and this is about the way Dave wraps his legs around Neal’s waist and digs his fingers into Neal’s shoulders.

Neal leans down and kisses Dave open-mouthed.

“Good?” he asks.

“ _Move_ ,” Dave says, and his voice is choked and strained, and Neal does. He moves slowly, carefully, rocks against Dave until Dave is used to Neal, used to his size, and then he moves a little quicker, a little harder. Neither of them is breakable, Neal knows.

“Jesus,” Neal says. “You feel so fucking—”

He doesn’t finish the thought. There’s a little bit of sweat matting Dave’s hair to his forehead, and Neal brings a hand up to brush it back before he can think better of it.

“Fuck, Dave,” he says, and he leans down to pepper kisses along Dave’s neck, biting down lightly and not-so-lightly when the urge strikes. He likes seeing Dave, afterwards, when he’s got Neal’s marks on his skin.

“Neal,” Dave says. “ _Neal_ ,” and he sounds like he can’t believe what he’s feeling, like maybe it’s all almost too much. Neal likes it—love it—that he’s the one to make Dave sound like that, feel like that.

He kisses Dave again because there’s a lot that he wants to say but doesn’t know how to. Dave’s fingers scramble at the back of his neck and in his hair, pulling him closer, closer, closer, and his heels dig into the back of Neal’s thighs. 

Neal thinks that maybe this is what everyone was talking about.

He looks down at Dave and Dave’s got his eyes wide open, looking at Neal’s face as he alternates between biting his lip and saying Neal’s name again and again as if it meant something. Neal feels him sneak a hand between their two bodies so that he can touch himself, and he says, “No, hey.”

Neal moves Dave’s hand aside and replaces Dave’s fingers with his own, jacking him off fast because Neal needs to come but won’t let himself until Dave does first.

“Neal, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—” Dave says, and his hips move faster and faster, erratically. 

When he comes, it’s with a loud shout that it sounds like he tried to hold back. There’s come on Dave’s belly and on Neal’s, and Neal comes not long afterwards, thinking,  _I’m the only one who’s ever seen him like this,_  and,  _So fucking gorgeous,_  and  _Oh, fuck—fuck._  Neal muffles the noises that he makes in the side of Dave’s neck, his mouth pressed to Dave’s sweaty skin.

They stay like that for a minute. Neal moves to kiss Dave again, but he ends up just leaning his forehead against Dave’s, their noses mushed together.

“Oh my god,” Dave whispers, his fingertips still pressing little bruises into the back of Neal’s shoulders.

“ _Dave,_ ” Neal whispers back, and it’s the most honest, open thing he’s ever said.

 


End file.
